


Tears Upon Tears On An Old Goban

by Kalira



Category: Hikaru no Go
Genre: Crying, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Podfic Available, Tear-stained, Tears, Understanding, Whumptober, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-09 07:16:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20990948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalira/pseuds/Kalira
Summary: Akira wakes to an empty bed in the middle of the night and finds his lover crying over an old, stained goban.





	Tears Upon Tears On An Old Goban

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Whumptober](https://whumptober2019.tumblr.com/post/187785964678/whumptober2019-october-approaches-and-so-does), Day 14: Tear-stained
> 
> Now with a [podfic version](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27023323) read by me.

“Hikaru?” Akira shifted sleepily, feeling something not. . . He woke up a little more as he realised the other half of the bed was empty, and frowned. He shivered and slid out of bed, wrapping himself in his robe against the autumn chill and padding out into the main room of the apartment.

His frown grew when he found his lover asleep, lying awkwardly on the floor curled around his battered old goban. It was nicer than most of their others, or had been once, before it had been rather ill-used . . . and now it was splotched with tears, Akira saw as he approached.

He bit his lip and knelt, resting a hand on Hikaru’s shoulder. “Hikaru. Love.” he murmured, eyes roving over the goban and-

There were layers of splotches across the wood, he saw now. He’d assumed . . . age-spots from ill storage, or perhaps some form of water damage, it was clear that someone before Hikaru had clearly not appreciated it, he had never really considered it in detail before. And now. . .

How many times had Hikaru cried over this goban, to leave such marks on it time and again? Why?

Akira hesitated, fingers twitching, but Hikaru was already beginning to stir beneath his hand.

“Sai?”

Akira’s breath caught, eyes widening. He tried to shape Hikaru’s name but his voice wouldn’t quite come.

Hikaru moved, eyes opening, and then froze as he looked up at Akira. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry, love.” Akira said, before he realised he had the words. “I woke and you weren’t there, and I was worried. . .” He bit his lip. “Are you. . .” he trailed off, because his lover had left their bed and cried himself to sleep in the floor, and woken to call for-

He wasn’t _all right_, surely.

“I just. . .” Hikaru sat up slowly, catching Akira’s hand as it slid from his shoulder and clasping it firmly. “I had . . . a dream.”

“About Sai?” Akira filled in gently.

Hikaru lifted wet eyes to meet his own. “I. . . Yes.”

He said nothing more, and Akira stroked his shoulder and squeezed his hand, not pushing. He believed that Hikaru would share, one day, when he was ready, and while Akira was curious, mostly for how deeply Sai had clearly affected Hikaru, he didn’t desperately need to know the story.

He kissed Hikaru’s cheek. “Can you come back to bed now?” he asked softly.

Hikaru took a breath, then licked his lips. He shook his head, and Akira nodded understanding, sad for his lover. “Do you. . . Would you rather I go, or may I stay up with you?” he asked.

Hikaru smiled at him, a fresh tear slipping down his face, and Akira reached up to brush it away without thinking. Hikaru kissed his damp fingertip before he dropped his hand.

“If you want . . . stay.” Hikaru said, and Akira tightened his hold on Hikaru’s hand, nodding immediately. “I think. . .” He paused.

“Love?” Akira prompted gently, rubbing his thumb over the back of Hikaru’s hand.

“I think. . . I would like to share him with you.” Hikaru said quietly, looking cautiously at Akira through his fringe. “I think it’s . . . time?”

Akira’s eyes widened, and Hikaru’s weak smile steadied. “Yes. I think. I think it is.”

Akira nodded again, remaining silent, and Hikaru twined their fingers firmly. He took a few deep breaths, eyes straying to the old goban, and then began to talk, spilling a long, fantastical, heartbreaking story. Akira listened without interruption or comment, soaking in the incredible story and hurting for his lover as he told its end.

Eventually Hikaru’s words slowed and stopped, his empty hand clenching as though he held his fan in it, then falling to his side. He wasn’t looking at Akira.

Hikaru sniffed a little, hand coming up to the goban, fingers tracing some invisible pattern over it, bypassing the tear splotches. Akira swallowed. The bloodstain. It must be the bloodstain that only Hikaru could see. Where Sai had _died_, hundreds of years ago.

“Oh, Hikaru.” Akira said quietly, catching his breath and pulling his lover into an embrace. His mind was whirling with the mad story Hikaru had told, but he didn’t disbelieve it - he couldn’t, both because he would never think Hikaru would lie like this, and because Hikaru’s clearly grief-stricken heart was in his eyes. “I’m sorry, love.”

Hikaru raised his head, eyes wide, and then his face crumpled as he fell into Akira’s arms, crying into his shoulder in thin little sobs. Akira hugged him tight and rocked them both, rubbing his lover’s back. “I’m so sorry you lost him.” Akira said quietly, nuzzling Hikaru’s hair.

Hikaru cried himself out quickly, already exhausted, no doubt, from his earlier tears and from the emotional retelling - and perhaps nerves over finally sharing Sai’s story with Akira - but remained leaning against Akira’s shoulder.

“I wish you could have met him.” Hikaru said, and Akira smiled sadly and hugged him a little tighter.

“I wish I could have known him, personally.” Akira said, because he _did_ know Sai, in a way - better than anyone but Hikaru could, because he was closer to Hikaru and his go than anyone else could ever come. “Because he is so much to you.”

Hikaru smiled at him, sitting up a little more. “I wish you two could have played, really played, too.” he added, rubbing at his face with one hand. “Sai’d have loved to play you, like you are now. . .”

“I would have loved to play him also.” Akira agreed, then tilted his head, considering.

He kissed Hikaru’s hand, then gestured at the goban. “Sai is not here, but. . . Shall we play? In his name?”

Hikaru stilled for a moment, and Akira half worried it would distress his lover further, but then. . .

“Yes.” he breathed. “Yes, let’s. Sai would- Sai would like that.”

Akira smiled and they moved to collect the stones to play on the old, battered, no-longer-haunted goban, with its stains of death and grief. They curled together at one side of it rather than parting to sit properly opposite one another, and though Hikaru’s tears had dried he sniffled from time to time as they placed stones, their game smooth and slow and strong.


End file.
